#historical document

[subiysu-chan]

Sanson's reclamation to enjoy citizen rights

Milords of the general assembly,

26 (probably december)

Milords, adress of Sanson, executioner of criminal judgements in Paris, to enjoy the rights of an active citizen.

For a long time, executioners of criminal judgements moan under the injustice of a prejudice that in a way, makes them share the shame of the criminals punished through their ministry. They have devored this humiliation until this day and found in a pure consience a consolation on the injustice of their fellow citizens. Today, some ("on" is difficult to translate. It's a third person pronoun meaning "group" or "us" roughly speaking) want to vow them to "infamie" (no, "infamie" in French refers to a judicial and moral concept of shame, as opposed to shame as an emotional state) that is negated by their letters of provision, and deprive them of their civil rights. They are at least the sixth that sir the abbot Maury tried to establish you in the session of the Twenty-third of this month.

Many notables orders from the Parlements of Rouen, namely those of the sixth of November 1681 and seventh of Jully 1781, of the Twelth of January 1787 forbidded under grave punishments to call executioners of criminal jugements "bourreaux" ("bourreau" can roughly be translated to "executioner" but has a moral and pejorative connotation, and was in the XVIIIth century considered a slur). The magistrates from which they emanate felt how much it would be injust to declare "infâmes" a profession that can be, and is, exercised by irreprochable men because it does not violate any precepts of morality. The wisdom of these orders would be violated if a decree declares executioners have no civil rights. Too unfortunate of having to punish those who have brought shame upon themselves through their crimes, they must not share its opprobrium.

The motion of Sir the abbot Maury sent trouble and alarm to our souls. Justice would loose it's executive force, and would find no executioners if this motion is decreed. The one of Paris, mainly, Charles Henry Sanson, presents to you his very respectful remontrances on these matters (and for all his colleagues who would follow his example) that he asks you to accept in advance his demission, if you decree executioners would be deprived of their citizen rights.

The supplicant hopes your justice would bother examin the question with all the scrupules it deserves and adjourn it if you see fit, so your religion is sufficiently instructed. In a time the whole nation regenerates fully, were justice takes back it's rights, you would not suffer, milords, it to be violated in the person of the supplicant nor his colleagues, useful and necessary men.

Sanson

Executioner of criminal judgements of the city of Paris.

[goldmanguyperson]

1930s advertisement

Interesting that this suggests maybe more people understood that bad working conditions means less faith in the business and maybe capitalism as a whole. Surely can’t have been so common to think, right? I have no clue. Cuz for sure nowadays being a communist is seen as a personal failing or an Evil Foreign or Satanic Plot to people who dont like communism

of course, this is an advertisement for paper towels of all things, so no doubt it was just meant to be eyecatching. i just think it’s interesting they decided to accept and repeat a fact that usually capitalists dont like to hear

[imkeepinit]

[danbusler]

The Caretaker's Shed

He walked away, with a tear in his eye and smile

The caretaker slowly approaches the old brick structure for one last time and stops to fondly remember how new it looked the first time he was there … it must be going on 50 years now. But he was tired and it was time to pass this labor of love on to the next generation.He entered the shed and gazed at the tools that he had held so many thousands of times. He carefully arranged them in an order…

[hedgehog-moss]

I was talking with a friend the other day about how I was fascinated with American school life when I was a teen because it seemed so different from how things are in my country (I knew about US high schools thanks to Hollywood, an accurate and trustworthy source) and we talked about which aspects of US schools felt foreign or strange to us and one thing I brought up was, how American teens only seemed to have like 15min for lunch (I had 1h30 here in France), as evidenced by the cafeteria scenes (no one seemed to eat a proper four-course meal? I definitely never saw a separate cheese course), and I was like, I envied a lot of stuff about US schools but not this

... and I went looking in my old diaries to see if I ever wrote about this, and you know what? I was wrong. I did envy their school lunches which, like almost everything about US schools, felt intriguing and different and cool. The reason middle school-me thought American school lunches were superior to French ones is because, since American teens in TV shows only seemed to get like 4 chicken nuggets and a milk carton for lunch, their lunch tray was very light and they could hold it with one hand under it, the other hand in their pocket or holding their bag strap on their shoulder all casual-like. Sometimes there was no tray, even!

I envied these American teenagers for their lunchtime nonchalance. I would have liked to handle lunch in this cool-cat way but my French lunch tray being loaded with 4 different heavy and breakable plates, I had to hold it carefully with both hands. In my view this was unfair as the hindrance of governmental nutrition guidelines made French students look like uptight nerds, unable to strut around the cafeteria with one hand in our pocket like we didn’t care. Same for the absence of lockers in our schools, we had to carry all our books on our back all day like studious turtles whilst the beautiful 25 year old American teens on my television casually leant against their lockers chatting with friends then strolled around school with just a couple of books tucked under their arm like they were in Dead Poets Society. Thank god there was an ocean between us, imagine a French kid entering a US school cafeteria carrying 3 binders and 5 textbooks in their big rucksack and holding their tray with two hands like a complete loser

Note that these comparisons are quite worthless since I don't know what US school life / food is like in the real world (I imagine it varies a lot!)—I just find it funny to re-read old diaries and discover what was important to kid-me. Discussing these little cultural differences gleaned from US TV series, adult!me is like "yeah I remember being intrigued & envious about a lot of things! Not their school lunches though, they didn't look balanced and nutritious"—meanwhile middle school-me, focused on what mattered, was like, imagine what we could be... imagine being able to hold your lunch tray with 1 hand instead of 2 thus accessing a realm of coolness unfathomable to us in our backward country

[ew-selfish-art]

DPxDC Au: Normally when Danny vandalizes ancient cave walls and historic places on his 'favor' missions for Clockwork, he gets sent back to erase them. But no, apparently this time, when Danny added his actual phone number into some painting, he's not allowed to go back and fix it. Ugh.

...

Tim has had the painting of Bruce professionally reviewed a few times since the old Bat was retrieved from the time stream. He's not entirely sure how the painting still exists, he's not even sure that it matters any more... But one day Tim catches something new in the painting.

It was small, and it could've just been the light at first but... Is that a phone number in the background?? It looks like black marker on the black curtains and it makes him feel feral. The family is kinder this time about how they think he's gone crazy- but each one of them admit that they can't remember a phone number ever being present.

The lab reports that the number was added over the paint- and that it's an ink based marking akin to a sharpie but like, hundreds of years old. So... It's been added recently but not at all recently enough for Tim to have an explanation.

Tim doesn't want to hear any more of his family members opinions on the matter and he certainly isn't going to just, stop investigating or something stupid like that. So, he takes the painting to the tower, gathers his team (Cassie, Kon and Bart), and they call the number in the middle of the night after a lot of planning/back-and-forth/catastrophizing.

It doesn't answer until the final ring, and the static that comes through the phone is bone chilling. A deep, monstrous groan which echoed with agony fills the room.

"I have a math test in like, three hours, who the fuck are you and why the fuck are you calling in the middle of the night?" The voice now complains, still sounding vaguely inhuman despite it's very human word choices.

"Your number is in a historical painting, we had a few questions but uh, you can call us back later?" Tim cringes as he says it but he hadn't planned on having to reply to someone trying to go back to bed. Or someone who was apparently also a teenager. (He had so, so many contingency plans for like, every kind of villain, alien or demon. lame.)

"...Ugh. might as well." The voice calls out, agreeing with a sigh that echos so deeply the team can feel it in their bones.

"Cool. Good luck on your test?" Tim offers.

"Mph." And the line hangs up.

...

Danny is at lunch with Sam and Tucker when he remembers the late night call. He'd spent the morning bitching about never getting a full night of sleep and it finally occurred to him what had happened. Of course his friends think it's hilarious that CW wouldn't let him erase his number. Of course they do.

They stop laughing when Danny calls the number back.

"Hello, this is Red Robin of Gotham. I have Superboy, Wonder girl and Impulse present with me. How did your math test go?"

[worfsbarmitzvah]

there’s such an attitude among ex-christian atheists that religions just spring up out of the void with no cultural context behind them. like ive heard people say shit like “those (((zionists))) think they own a piece of land bc their book of fairy tales told them so!!!” and they refuse to understand that no, we don’t belong there because of the torah, it’s in the torah because we belong there. because we’re from there. the torah (from a reform perspective) was written by ancient jews in and about the land that they were actively living on at the time. the torah contains instructions for agriculture because the people who lived in the land needed a way to teach their children how to care for it. it contains laws of jurisprudence because those are pretty important to have when you’re trying to run a society. same for the parts that talk about city planning. it contains our national origin story for the same reason that american schools teach kids about the boston tea party. it’s an extremely complex and fascinating text that is the furthest thing from just a “book of fairy tales”

[czerwonykasztelanic]

Le 9 Thermidor, l'an II de la République une & indivisible / Age of Excuse VI, Mgła

[laundrybiscuits]

(Continued from this snippet! Content notes: police interrogation, homophobia)

“You don’t look gay.” The detective gives Steve a very obvious once-over. Steve tries to look gayer as subtly as he can. 

“Sorry,” he says. “Guess I’ll have to let my boyfriend know you don’t think I look gay enough to fuck him.”

The detective’s face twists slightly, like he’s smelled something bad. “No need to be like that. I’m just saying, I bet a good-looking guy like you could get a girlfriend pretty easy.”

“You’re not my type,” says Steve. He smiles with his teeth, even though his heart is going fast and he can feel his palms starting to sweat. 

The detective’s hands tense, and Steve wonders if he’s about to get hit, but they relax again and the detective sits back.

“Just doing my job,” says the detective. “Because, funny enough, we asked around with all your little friends, and it seems like you used to be a bit of a ladies’ man.”

“Things change,” says Steve. 

“In fact…seems like none of your friends ever even saw you talk to Munson before. Moved in different circles and everything. I remember what high school was like.”

The detective leans close. 

“So why would the captain of the swim team, a nice normal boy from a good family with a string of pretty girlfriends, ever—ever—stick his neck out like this for some murdering scum like Munson? That’s what I’m trying to figure out, here.”

“Don’t fucking talk about him like that,” says Steve. His mouth is dry. His pulse is thundering in his ears. “He didn’t kill anyone. He was with me the whole time. He’s—he didn’t kill anyone.”

“Hm,” says the detective. 

It takes a while for them to stop interrogating him. They keep asking him the same questions over and over, trying to trip him up. He asks for water and doesn’t get it. In the back of his mind, a hysterical little voice is shrieking Scoops Ahoy! I work for Scoops Ahoy!, but he manages to keep it locked down. Doesn’t let himself get baited, just keeps repeating that Eddie was with him the whole time and neither of them know anything. 

It takes a while, but it’s over eventually.

When he leaves the station, Eddie’s standing outside with Hopper and Joyce Byers, wearing a shirt and jeans that definitely belonged to Jonathan at some point. Eddie’s got his hands tucked into his armpits, looking antsy and tense, but he’s free and standing on his own two feet. It’s a pretty big upgrade from when Steve last saw him about a week or two ago. 

It’s almost too easy to go straight over to him, wrapping him up in a tight hug like they’ve had their arms around each other a million times. 

“Oof. Easy there, tiger,” laughs Eddie. “I’m, uh, still a little fragile.”

“Sorry,” says Steve, and loosens his hold. He doesn’t let go all the way.

“Come on, boys,” says Joyce. “I’m taking you two home. Steve, Eddie’s been staying with us, but we’re a little short on spare beds and it’s not great for his recovery. We’re moving him to your place until we can figure out something better, okay?” 

———

Joyce drops them off and helps carry in a few garbage bags full of Eddie’s stuff. There’s not that much.

And then the door closes behind her, and Steve’s alone with Eddie for the first time since—actually, maybe ever. 

“So,” says Eddie. “What…the fuck, Harrington.”

“Is that an actual question?” Steve says. He rolls his shoulders, trying to get some of the stiffness out. “I mean, didn’t Hopper and Mrs. Byers explain everything to you?”

“Kind of? I mean, I still think this is probably the worst idea of all time, but they told me—anyway, what I meant just now was a much more personalized and individual what the fuck. As in, why the fuck would you agree to any of this? You know you’re never gonna get another girl in this town to look at you now.”

“Dumping me already? Ice cold, man.”

Eddie groans and actually throws his hands in the air in frustration. Steve hadn’t known people did that in real life. 

“Jesus christ.” Eddie wheels around and grabs two of the garbage bags. “I can’t do this right now, I need to take a fucking nap. We will be discussing this later.”

“Still don’t know what there is to discuss,” says Steve, but he picks up the last garbage bag and leads the way to the spare room. 

Eddie pitches forwards onto the bed, arms outstretched and face mashed into the pillow. “Fuck yes, I am going to marry this goddamn mattress. Hit the lights when you leave,” he says, slightly muffled. 

For a second, Steve finds himself stepping forward with a hand outstretched to—do something. He’s not sure what. Touch Eddie’s hair, or something dumb like that. His face warms. He’s really glad Eddie isn’t looking at him and doesn’t see how he’s kind of just standing there with a hand out for no reason. 

He turns around, flicking the light switch on his way out, and doesn’t look back.

[auguste-marmonts-only-fan]

YO EUROPEAN HISTORY LOVERS

guys, I must tell you all

if you want/need high quality images or texts from european history

RUN TO https://www.europeana.eu/en!!

I just found out about it today and they have amazing sources

they have things I havent seen anywhere else, also its pretty much all copyright free (great for school work)

xoxo

[somuchforstardust]

resting distressed face 🥰

[angstics]

multiple books including material from my chem are coming out this year!

"Where Are Your Boys Tonight? The Oral History of Emo's Mainstream Explosion 1999-2008" by Chris Payne (June 6, 2023, preorder link) -- Includes interview with Mikey Way (src)

“Top Eight: How MySpace Changed Music” by Michael Tedder (August 15, 2023, preorder link) -- Includes interview with Frank Iero

"Negatives: A Photographic Archive of Emo (1996-2006)" by Amy Fleisher Madden (Oct 24, 2023, preorder link) -- Includes essay by Frank Iero, photos by Mark Beemer

projects 1+3 also include photos of my chem from the 2000s. exciting stuff :-)

[resplendentoutfit]

Girls in white dresses...

because summer's not yet over, right?

Regency Era

Rolinda Sharples (British, 1793-1838 ) • Portrait of the Artist • 1814 • Bristol Museum and Art Gallery

Victorian Era

Anton Einsle (Austrian, 1801–1871) • Portrait of a Lady in a Hat • c. mid 19th century

Edwardian Era

Frank Dicksee (British/English, 1853–1928) • Lady Hillingdon • 1905

Roaring 20s

Gerald Festus Kelly (British, 1879–1972) • The Countess of Lisburne • 1926 • Ferrens Art Gallery, Yorkshire, UK

[sdentii]

Hatsune Miku (Ticino edition)

[danbusler]

Patriotism is the Love of Country and it's History

The Declaration of Independence will cover the wall

“It is the love of country that has lighted and that keeps glowing the holy fire of patriotism” – J. Horace McFarlandI am currently working with a large real estate company to create the base images that will be used as a “whole wall display” for a new building that they are constructing as a community center.The Declaration of Independence, ink well, and quill were carefully styled by the…

[digitalfossils]